


Lords over a Castle of Snow

by sheberry (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, With just a dash of, or rather pre-Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 14:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sheberry
Summary: Hannibal and Will struggle with living together during a time of festiveness.





	Lords over a Castle of Snow

**Author's Note:**

> And it was Christmas! - Oh my God, it was C h r i s t m a s.
> 
> The house they live in is real (it's in Salzburg, Austria), and someone probably lives in it for real. I don’t mean any disrespect to the actual owners. I’m so sorry, owners, but a cannibal and his no-less-cannibalistic boyfriend just moved into your home.
> 
> I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas! Or just joyous holidays if you don’t celebrate! On to two middle-aged men not quite sure how to Deal with each other during this festive time!

**i.**

Will wondered what the Christmas market smelled like to Hannibal. He himself could discern the mouth-watering smells of baked apples and mulled wine and roasted chestnuts. The sacral fragrance of frankincense that was sold at one of the tiny booths made him slightly dizzy, though not at all in a bad way. Imagining all of that amplified was thrilling, but overwhelming. Not if one was used to it, apparently, because Hannibal’s gloved hand was relaxed around Will’s, their fingers laxly interwoven, sharing warmth.

Loud Christmas music of the pop variety was playing from invisible speakers. Will listened with half an ear. It might have fit the people all around them, but it was not what he was used to any longer. Not that he disliked it, but Hannibal was the one playing at the piano until late in the evening, and Will didn’t really want to bother him by requesting a rendition of “Last Christmas”. _Last Christmas, I gave you a heart. Wasn’t mine, but it’d been someone’s once._

“Do you want to buy anything?” he asked, biting his cheek because he had nearly laughed at his own joke and was too terrified of so much as a giggle escaping his mouth. “Ornaments? Nativity figures? Those… woollen… coats?” He pointed them out with a vague gesture of his finger, unsure of what exactly to title them.

“No. I am quite content with simply looking.”

“I’ll get myself something to eat. Slowly growing hungry from all that _looking_.” He let go of Hannibal’s hand to wander off in the direction of one of the many booths that sold food. He could just about feel Hannibal’s disapproving eyes on him, staring daggers into his back. He didn’t know where the sudden urge to rile him up had come from. Maybe that wasn’t even his intention. It was hard to tell, those days. A truce and unexpected friendly fire were as close as they had ever been.

He got himself some kind of pastry with apples and powdered sugar all over it like a snow-covered landscape. When he tore off a piece and offered it to Hannibal, his offer was met with a gentle refusal that made his previous guilt flare up a bit. Hannibal never ate anything he hadn’t prepared with his own hands, almost like he couldn’t. Something Will would maybe deeply understand one day, but for now, it was still Hannibal’s pain alone. “It’s good,” he said. “But the cookies you made are better. Especially the ones with the cherries on top.”

Hannibal took Will’s hand in his own again and practically dragged him away from the Christmas market and into the nearby cathedral, its saints-in-stone towering and watching over the visitors and yet closing their eyes to the monsters entering their gate, one of them still sucking sticky sugar from his fingers.

 

 

**ii.**

It was dark by the time they made their way home. Though the direct way would have been faster, they decided to wander. They were in no hurry, and—if Luck remained on their side—would never be in a hurry ever again. No patients waiting for Hannibal, neither students nor corpses waiting for Will. They did only what they wanted to do. A wicked freedom.

The stores were all closed, but some shop windows were still illuminated, granting a look at art and jewellery and treasures large and small. They all glimmered and shone as if they knew Christmas was approaching and wanted to get people into the right mood. A clever trick by shopkeepers, true, but effective nonetheless, Will found, as he leaned against a building and waited patiently for Hannibal to finish looking and looking and _looking_ at all that caught his attention. He wondered briefly whether Hannibal was aware that he couldn’t keep his eyes off him, no matter how banal a thing he was doing. He got his answer when he caught Hannibal’s eyes in the window glass, the shining lights turning his face golden for a second.

As soon as they had left the old town, the actual homes began, and they found themselves still looking into windows as they walked past.

It was not always a pleasant experience for Will. Looking into windows felt a bit like looking into minds. He caught glimpses of emotions in certain decorations, knew instinctively which home was celebrating without a loved one that year, which ones had just welcomed a new member to the family, and where two persons in love had just moved in together and were now struggling to compromise when it came to the ornaments on the tree. Will swallowed when he realised the last one was uncomfortably close to what he and Hannibal were going through.

He felt Hannibal’s hand squeeze his. “Drowning yourself in other people’s festivities, Will?”

Will sighed. “Trying not to read a recent divorce into a mistletoe hanging where it definitely shouldn’t be.”

“What does our own decoration tell you about us?”

“That we are better at accepting the other’s aesthetic sensibilities than the couple in the house with the white glazing bars. I could just _feel_ the husband’s resentment at the sight of the ornaments with those 3D plush elements through the window. Makes me glad to know you’re more of a classic red-and-gold glitter kind of man.”

“With a weakness for antlers and straw stars.”

Will couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at Hannibal’s words and the deadpan delivery. Hannibal threw him a fond look, quietly pleased about being able to shake Will from his melancholy.

“Take me home,” Will said, and Hannibal quickened his pace.

**iii.**

Will had advocated for something small on the outskirts of the city, unobtrusive and easy to leave behind if they needed to. Hannibal had bought them a castle. A small one that wouldn’t be classified as a castle by anyone other than sceptic, sceptic Will, but it was obvious what kind of impression the original owner had gone for: striped window shutters, a small tower in which the bedroom was located, _battlements_ on the roof. And an actual castle right beside them, up on a hill, able to be looked at by the entire world. Hiding in plain sight had always been Hannibal’s forte, and two months into their stay Will, too, felt way less uncomfortable with the idea of playing lord of the castle.

But their castle was cold. Colder than it had any right to be, drafty old stone walls aside. The fireplace—fire _places_ , Will corrected himself—were always struggling to keep the halls with their high ceilings warm. But once they were, it was a thing of beauty. Crackling logs, glowing embers, and Hannibal’s hands dancing over the piano keys while Will sat on one of the broad windowsills, slowly sipping whiskey more expensive than he’d been comfortable buying… before Hannibal.

At that time of night, they were entirely alone when they walked up the hill they had come to consider theirs. There was wet snow, and the path was slippery. Will felt undignified when he nearly slipped and had to grab Hannibal’s arm for balance, and he felt unimaginably powerful when the same happened to Hannibal—if only once. By the end of it, they were laughing, and Will bent down to scoop some snow up into his hands. There was a split second of Hannibal’s eyes widening, and then the snow had found its way down the back of his collar, and he lost the fight against his own instinct to shiver.

“I don’t see how that was necessary, Will,” he said when he was certain his voice was steady again.

“Come on in, and I’ll warm you up.” If there was anything suggestive behind Will’s words, neither of them remarked on it.

 

 

**iv.**

“I can’t use my bank account. I have no income. All I’m left with is sapping your and your family’s wealth.” Will sighed into his pillow. “I don’t have any money to buy you something with.”

“I don’t expect you to. While there are many reasons for me to enjoy Christmas, presents are not among them.”

“I know _you_ will buy me something, and frankly? It annoys me.”

Hannibal was quiet for the longest time. For so long, in fact, that Will raised his head from the pillow, fully expecting him to stare off into the middle distance the way he sometimes did when something in his memory palace had caught his fancy mid-conversation. Instead, he found Hannibal looking straight at him with an odd mixture of amusement and discomfort. “As a matter of fact, I do not know what to get for you.”

Will propped himself up on his elbows, mood improving slightly. “You serious?”

“I know your deepest desires, your most private of thoughts. But, truth be told, I would have bought you whiskey, and you already have that available to you at all times.”

Will snorted, too drowsy still to care much about etiquette.

“What would you have gotten me?” A smile tugged at Hannibal’s lips, a glint in his eyes betraying his sincere curiosity.

“Honestly? Probably a knife or something.”

There was laughter, and they were so caught up in the sound they didn’t know who it was coming from.

“See? Associations come quick.”

“Mhm. Don’t remind me.”

“Is Christmas something we can learn?”

“I always felt there are more important things we need to learn first. And more important things we already have.” Will leaned forward and pressed the chastest of kisses to Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal’s eyes fluttered closed, an expression on his face as if he had just glimpsed something holy.

“And more important things to give to each other.”


End file.
